As I sat on the couch sobbing over the victory of the USA women's Olympic gymnastics team, I couldn't help but wonder why I was suddenly so invested in sports every four years.
The Olympics games is exactly that -- a series of games. Games, in my opinion, are usually childish and overrated. I scoff at the unnecessary roughness of football and I truly can't remember the last time I actually watched a baseball game and wasn't bored within seconds. I know I am not alone. So why is it that when it comes to the Olympic Games, we suddenly become sports fanatics? What makes this game so special?
We gather to watch people far more talented than us compete for the coveted gold medal. We shove our faces with pizza and criticize a diver's form as if we are somehow qualified to do so. We temporarily pause our busy lives and watch others' dreams being accomplished right before our eyes
It is the one time every four years I feel truly motivated. I vividly remember watching Shawn Johnson on beam in 2008, I was at the beach at the time, but I was glued to the television. I decided right then that I was going to be a gymnast. Needless to say, my goal was short-lived, but I found the energy I received from watching the girls exhilarating. Shawn and Nastia Liukin quickly became my idols. In 2012 it was Tom Daley and Mckayla Maroney (I still watch her iconic vault on the daily).
We feed off of other's success; there is something about watching someone's life goals pay off in front of our very eyes that gives us that feeling that maybe -just maybe- we could one day do the same. Most of these aspirations fade along with the Olympic hype, but for a few weeks there is an extra spark in the world's eyes, a spring in our step, accompanied by a worldwide conversation.
In light of the events this year, it has become extremely clear to me just how much we need these Olympics. Our world has been in mourning, and this is the first time I have sensed even the slightest bit of comfort and peace among us. Watching the lighting of the torch along with the rest of the world brought tears to my eyes for reasons I couldn't at first understand. But then i remembered how many mornings I have awoken to grave news about yet another mass shooting this year. I remembered the election, the way it has engaged our world in a seemingly infinite argument. Our ideas divide us, but the Olympics may very well be our savior. This past week I have felt more united as a country, and a world than I have all year.
I smiled from ear to ear when Michael Phelps earned his 22nd medal. I cried when Fiji won their very first Olympic medal in rugby, the sport they adore most. I marveled at Ellie Downie, the British gymnast who continued her floor routine and then proceeded to vault after a potentially life-threatening fall on her head. I felt an immense sense of pride when Simone Manuel became the first African American us swimmer to win a medal.
No matter the country, no matter the person. I have gained countless role models this week. I have been inspired by not just our country, but our world. I have regained faith, and I have radiated positivity I thought I had lost.
These games will not solve the problems this world is facing, but they will help us forget about them for a little while. At this point, this is all we can ask for, to clap in unison at the same image on television, to smile and cry in the same language. It's at these times that we realize that perhaps we aren't so different. We all want success, we all want to make our country proud.Rare moments like these when we do find a common interest, are the ones we should remember long after the Olympics have ended and the torch's smoke has faded.
As I sat on the couch sobbing over the victory of the USA women's Olympic gymnastics team, I couldn't help but wonder why I was suddenly so invested in sports every four years.
I saw a little girl who had just begun middle school. She was very nervous about everything. She watched another little girl, who was just as short as her, flip on a four-inch beam without falling. And she thought, if the gymnast can face such a feat without falling, then she could most certainly make it through middle school.
The article announcing Sean Johnson's win in the newspaper still hangs in my room. It's on my bulletin board above my desk. She watched me do homework there for years, triumphantly clutching her medal. "Keep working and you'll have your own one day," her reassuring smile seemed to say.
I'm not speaking as a feminist, I'm not speaking as a sports fanatic or an activist of any kind. I'm speaking for the girls and boys everywhere who's eyes light up at the sight of Michael Phelps and Simone Biles. For the men and women who are about to quit something in their lives until they watch a race. This is why we need the Olympics. To make us believe we can do things that we swept under the rug long ago. We live in fear until we see Aly Raisman burst into tears after her floor routine, until we see a swimmer break down on the podium next to Michael Phelps. Fear is what once drove these people too. It is only when we realize that fear doesn't have to win that we take off, with a leap or a dive or a sprint, toward our dreams.
